


Bestest Dwarf-Boning Roommates

by allourheroes



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: (mostly in the titles), Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Disapproving Thranduil, Engagement, Humor, M/M, Modern Middle Earth, Mutual Pining, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pining, Roommates, Sexual Content, Work In Progress, not as cracky as it sounds
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-06
Updated: 2014-07-07
Packaged: 2018-01-07 19:03:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 16,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1123291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allourheroes/pseuds/allourheroes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Legolas and Bilbo are roommates. They have dwarf boyfriends. (Or, rather, Bilbo does and Legolas desperately wishes he did. And he will. Eventually.)</p><p>Next Chapter Should Be Posted: July 2015 (An entire year late! Oops!)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Legolas Has a Dwarf-Related Drinking Problem and Bilbo Doesn't Know Things are Getting Serious (How Does One Know They Have Met Their One?)

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, I have two WIPs that haven't been updated in an eternity, whoops, but a certain someone has promised to keep me on track with this one and we've planned some of it out, so…there's that.
> 
> I blame Tru (impalafortrenchcoats) for this. And most of my life's problems.
> 
> The title was a joke but whatever. It's how I think of it despite the (slightly) more serious tone of the fic. (By which I mean it isn't complete and utter crack.)
> 
> It's a bit ridiculous, but, uh…hopefully cute, too.

Bilbo likes living with Legolas. The elf is tall and can reach all of the high shelves and is mostly quiet so Bilbo can get his writing done. Plus, the rent is practically nothing since Legolas's father owns the building--which is a nice bonus if not also a burden in and of itself. Thranduil is not an elf who is easy to get along with, despite the manners Bilbo's father--a respectable Baggins--had instilled in him throughout his youth.

Legolas doesn't mind when Bilbo starts seeing Thorin. In fact, Legolas is comparably okay with dwarves, it seems. He is a bit odd when Bilbo initially brings it up, but it is not bad. Even after he walks in on Thorin and Bilbo in a rather intimate situation, the elf just laughs and later asks Bilbo for the details. Later, his father calls, however, and Legolas can't explain why he's in trouble until they've left the apartment.

He downs two shots of the strongest liquor the bar has. "He would prefer I not ask questions about dwarves," Legolas says, and Bilbo can be seen putting this rather random statement into the proper context.

Bilbo blushes to the points of his ears. "In general or--" He can't quite say the word now, out in public.

Legolas gives him a gentle pat on the back, "You need not say it, my friend." He smiles at Bilbo. "You are lucky. When my father found out you were seeing a dwarf, I had to convince him you were not some sort of spy."

Bilbo goggles at him, "Me? A spy?" 'In this day and age,' he'd add, did he not already know how strange the elves could be with their long lives.

The elf only laughs and waves the bartender over. The place serves drinks fit for elves as well as for hobbits--so long as they're ordered properly. He downs another drink and nods, "Ada hates dwarves."

The hobbit knows Legolas has no problem with his relationship with Thorin despite his dwarf's particular stubbornness, but he has to ask. "And you?"

Legolas takes on a forlorn expression, "Truth be told, I have been in love with a dwarf for what feels like an age now."

Bilbo wants to laugh but he sees that the elf isn't joking. He clears his throat, "Anyone I know?" It's not an odd question; he's spent quite a bit of time with dwarves. In fact, that was the reason he met Thorin, although dating the dwarf was definitely the reason he continued to do so.

"Gimli, son of Gloin," the name is accompanied with a wistful smile. "Perhaps it is odd to you, knowing that I am immortal, but..." He sighs and swirls the amber liquid in his glass.

Bilbo pats the elf's hand. "No, no, no," he reassures hastily. He chuckles, "Who would I be to judge? Thorin is over a century older than I am." He winces slightly at his own statement. He can see that Legolas is about to turn the conversation on him, so he continues before the elf can do so, "Anyway, I have met Gloin so I'm certain Thorin knows this Gimli you spoke of." He lowers his voice, "What's he like?"

Legolas's mouth widens into an expression of elation, "He's young, for a dwarf, but he has beautiful red hair and an admirable beard. He's stubborn, but he's got a good heart. Like most dwarves, he is quick to quarrel, but he does not hold grudges as much as yours does." Bilbo wishes to defend Thorin, but truth is truth. "He is...different than I am, than anyone I've ever met." The elf shakes his head, "I sound utterly lovesick." He pauses, pursing his lips, "And perhaps I am. I haven't had the opportunity to speak with him in half a decade and perhaps he has forgotten ever meeting me, but I feel it in the core of my being that he is..."

Legolas trails off, glancing past Bilbo, and the hobbit is confused until an arm wraps around his shoulder.

"Who is what?" Thorin asks, curious. His stance is possessive and he sends a glare across the room to ward off any interest in his boyfriend.

Bilbo smiles up at his dwarf despite his slight annoyance at the interruption. "Do you know Gloin's son, Gimli?" he asks without preamble.

Thorin's brows furrow, "Of course. He's a fine young dwarf. Strong, like Gloin himself. Why?"

Bilbo looks between Thorin and Legolas--who appears as if he may start fading out of shame as he drinks anything the bartender is willing to give him. "I'll explain later," he whispers suspiciously and is very glad Thorin does not choose to start shouting. The dwarf has gotten much better at controlling his outbursts since they began dating but it is still fairly early in their relationship, especially by dwarf standards, and Thorin has been prone to bouts of jealousy. Bilbo will admit that it's cute sometimes to have Thorin pouting at the mention of someone he encountered in his past, but mostly he finds the intense possession embarrassing--and occasionally hot.

Thorin nods, eyeing Legolas as he drowns himself in alcohol. "Is he alright?"

Bilbo shrugs. He hops down from his stool, shooting a sympathetic look towards the elf as he lays his head upon the bar. "I think so. And...I will be right back," he says and kisses Thorin's stubbly cheek as he moves past.

Thorin leans on the counter rather than take the unoccupied seat beside the elf. "Legolas," he clears his throat, "as you are one of Bilbo's closest friends that I can trust to be honest with me, I must ask a question of you."

Legolas lifts his head, glad that the subject is not him or his ridiculous crush. "Of course," he says, and realises he's drunk a bit more than he has in at least half a century.

Thorin pulls a ring from his pocket, although rather large and ornate it is simple by dwarf standards. "He is my One," Thorin explains, cheeks reddening. "I--"

The air is knocked from his lungs as Legolas pulls him into a hug, nearly falling off of his barstool--for a move that ungraceful, Thorin knows the elf must be truly inebriated.

"Do you think he'll like it?" Thorin asks, pulling away from Legolas, careful to make certain the elf is steadied on his seat again.

"I am certain that he would love anything from you, master dwarf." The form of address is particularly old-fashioned, reminiscent perhaps of the elf's past, but his smile and his words are genuine and Thorin feels his nerves settle somewhat.

"Truly?" Thorin asks and the elf bobs his head wholeheartedly in reassurance. "Thank you." He requests water from the bartender. "If I may ask another question of you," he begins, and the elf looks at him as if telling him to continue, "what sorrows are you drowning tonight?"

Legolas is quiet for a long time and Thorin starts to feel as if his question will not be answered, although he is unsure if it is because the inebriated elf has now forgotten or if he simply does not wish to discuss. He is surprised when Legolas asks him a question instead. "How is it that a dwarf knows they have met their One?"

It is funny that a mere two years ago, Thorin would not have had an inkling how to answer this. It is still rather complicated, but he need only think of Bilbo to know. "It is sometimes difficult to discern, but it is there from the moment we meet our One. When we must come to face this realisation is another matter. It is as if I was waiting my entire life to meet Bilbo and once I accepted that, I simply knew--as if it were written in the essence of my very being. What of the elves? How are you certain you've found your mate?" Thorin never thought he would be so open with an elf, especially the son of Thranduil, but Bilbo had changed his life in many ways.

"It is much the same for us, although we may wait almost indefinitely for the correct timing." He laughs, voice quiet, "Were I so lucky as to have my love be of my kind." He drinks the water as if it could be the cause of such woes.

Thorin wishes to ask, but Bilbo has returned. "Are you both ready to go?" he asks, straightening his coat. It is later than he had initially thought and although he would love to hear the whole story, he can see that his friend needs time to think and his boyfriend looks particularly dashing. Home is very appealing to him, to the three of them, he thinks.

The two ready themselves with a shared look and they return to the flat. Legolas does not mind the sound of Bilbo's cries through the walls, nor Thorin's curse when they fall off the bed, but it does remind him of his loneliness. When the two fall asleep, it is almost as if even their breathing is in sync and he wishes for Gimli to finally be his. He does not know if the dwarf feels the same--unfortunate as it is that mates do not work this way always--but there is still hope.

He must believe tomorrow will bring him one step closer to love.


	2. Putting Things in Mouths (Also, Thranduil)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sexual content tag applies in this chapter. Just FYI.

Bilbo wakes up to a warm mouth on his cock and groans. He looks down to see Thorin there between his legs, his long hair a mess. Bilbo nearly laughs but it changes into something else entirely when Thorin's strong fingers begin moving in time with his mouth. He tangles his hand in the dark hair.

Thorin has never done this before--any of it--not that Bilbo minds. Thorin's other hand skims up his hip, to his abdomen, and comes to rest on Bilbo's chest. The hobbit grasps it with his own. Thorin swirls his tongue around the head and over the slit, then takes Bilbo down as deep as he will go.

Bilbo would be embarrassed at how quickly he came were he not aware of just how much Thorin liked to see him come. His eyes had squeezed closed automatically, but he opens them now to look down at his dwarf. Thorin, of course, is already watching him and Bilbo shudders in little aftershocks at the way the dwarf licks his lips.

"Good morning," Bilbo whispers a bit breathlessly.

Thorin moves up his body and kisses him--Bilbo doesn't mind tasting himself. "Good morning, Mister Baggins," Thorin returns, his tone teasing. Thorin's cock is heavy between them and he slides himself in the hollow of Bilbo's hip.

The hobbit kisses him again, messily, and wraps a leg around Thorin's waist. Thorin spends himself this way and as they pull apart Bilbo knows he must change the sheets. He probably should have anyway as he can only assume how strongly they smell of sex--as he is certain he and Thorin do, as well.

Bilbo gives Thorin another kiss, lingering there only a moment before he begins pushing on the dwarf's shoulder. "I need a shower," he says, and Thorin opens his mouth, "and so do you. Up, up."

Legolas has a headache. He somehow feels that he should be immune, that an age ago he would've been left unaffected the morning after. This may simply be because he doesn't often drink, however--not much, at least.

He emerges from his room to find a dwarf in his kitchen, clad only in his pants and long, wet hair dripping down his back. He's standing on a stool but Legolas can't begrudge him his height when he knows Thorin will make him breakfast. Bilbo sits at the table in his dressing gown with a mug of tea in hand and a whole pot of it there on the table. He's left out a mug for Legolas and the elf is grateful for his roommate. He had passed into the realm of dreams for a while in the night and he now remembers the ring Thorin had shown him. He wonders if the dwarf has already proposed as he had not been aware to hear it if so, but surely Bilbo would have told him.

He surreptitiously glances at the hobbit's hands and decides he hasn't missed anything.

Breakfast is eaten in near silence as Thorin reads the paper and Bilbo reads a book and Legolas glumly contemplates how silly his crush is in the wake of his hangover.

A knock comes to the door and they all look up in surprise. "I'll get it," Bilbo tells them, stuffing a bookmark between the pages. He is, after all, the most dressed of the three.

Unfortunately, it is Thranduil. Bilbo finds an expression between a welcoming smile and the furrowed brow of concern--the elf is rather difficult. "Thranduil," he greets, loudly enough that even his nearly naked dwarf can hear him.

Thranduil raises a dark eyebrow at him, "I must see my son." He brushes past the hobbit without another word.

Bilbo follows. "What--what's all this about then?" he practically shrieks. He's certain Thorin won't be dressed. Oh, Eru, the dwarf certainly knew how to make a good impression.

When they arrive in the kitchen, Thorin, of course, is standing there proudly in his pants, practically staring Thranduil down.

Bilbo stands in front of him, "Yes, hello, this is my boyfriend, Thorin--"

Thranduil interrupts him. "Son of Thrain, son of Thror--" he begins.

"Ada, _please_ ," Legolas groans.

Thranduil responds in quick, angry elvish and Bilbo makes out the word "nogoth" and winces. Luckily, Thorin can't understand him.

"Let's, uh, let's get you some trousers," Bilbo says quietly and leads his boyfriend to his bedroom.

Legolas sips his tea and stares at his father. "Rude," he says.

Thranduil practically rolls his eyes at his son. "How can you stand the sight of that dwarf?" he says, adding idly, "I had thought Bilbo to be respectable, and yet he allows the most stubborn of Durin's line to take him."

Legolas knows of his father's attempt to goad him into a visceral reaction with his words. It's disrespectful to everyone involved but Thranduil uses his elven grace to disguise it.

"Why are you here?"

"The dwarves--"

" _Ada_."

Thranduil straightens his back, tucking his hands neatly behind himself. "It is no good growing too fond of mortals, Legolas."

That might be the best and worst advice his father has ever given him. "I know," Legolas tells him earnestly, "but it is too late for that."

Thranduil's lips purse and he listens for a moment the sounds from the other room. "Do they think we cannot hear them?"

Legolas smirks into his mug, "It may just be the point."

Thranduil's eyes narrow. " _Dwarves_ ," he sneers disdainfully. "That roommate of yours was so quiet before he felt their corruption."

"They're in love, Ada," Legolas argues.

His father pauses and his eyes focus hawkishly on his son. "So long as you are not, Legolas," he warns.

Thranduil sweeps towards the door. "I expect you over for dinner next week," he says. "We must...catch up."

The sound of the door closing is followed by Bilbo nearly tumbling out of his room looking disheveled. There's a big purple bruise between his neck and collarbone and although Thorin emerges appearing much more put together, there is also a sense of smug satisfaction there.

"Um, sorry, about--well, you know," Bilbo says and Legolas smiles happily at the two.

Thorin helps Bilbo straighten his clothes. He kisses the hobbit then, long and sweet, his large hand cupping Bilbo's cheek as the other finds his hobbit's waist. Bilbo's hands just hang there for a moment before he lays them on Thorin's chest, feeling the dwarf's heart beating.

Legolas looks away. The two were both disgusting and endearing in their love. It is funny, to Legolas, that mixing between the different races of Middle-Earth is still so uncommon--although elves and men had the most history of it--that he, an elf, and his roommate, a hobbit, should both be in love with dwarves. Perhaps a bit of jealousy arises when he thinks of Bilbo and Thorin as Gimli may not so much as remember him. It is quickly pushed aside, however, as the two break apart and Thorin says his goodbyes.

"Right, but you will be over for dinner?" Bilbo says, and it is very different from the way Thranduil had said close to the same thing to Legolas.

"Of course," Thorin replies, gruff but reassuring and Bilbo gives him one last quick kiss and watches him walk away.

Bilbo presses his back to the door with a deep inhale and exhale of breath. He pads back over to the kitchen and smiles softly at Legolas. "He told me he loves me," Bilbo whispers, as if the dwarf in question may overhear him. He hooks his thumbs in the lapels of his dressing gown and raises his eyebrows. No one has ever said that to him, not as a _lover_.

"That is wonderful, Bilbo, truly," Legolas tells him, pouring himself a new cup of tea. He looks sadly at the now empty pot and the few crumbs on his plate.

Bilbo startles and runs into the kitchen. "I'll put the kettle on," he says, rummaging through the cupboards, "and I just know I've put them somewhere in here--just, hold on."

"Would you like some help, my friend?"

"No, no, I'm sure they're right--aha!" He holds a tupperware aloft and begins bringing it over to the table, then backtracks to put the kettle on as he said he would.

"Always make enough for second breakfast," Bilbo tells him. In fact, Bilbo always makes more than enough but between his hobbit appetite, that of his dwarf boyfriend, and Legolas, all is eaten rather quickly anyway.

"These are delicious, Bilbo," Legolas says after he swallows down the bite. Dwarf manners, or lack thereof, may have begun rubbing off on him as he finds himself sometimes speaking with his mouth still full. It is no lie, at least, as Bilbo's baked goods are the best he's ever eaten. He grabs another pastry, having been taught long ago that he need not ask. The hobbit is proud of his baking skills and to have more is a great compliment--so long as there is enough for everyone, which Bilbo's baking assures there is.

"I've invited someone over for dinner," Bilbo says, wincing at the taste of his now cold tea.

Legolas laughs, "Thorin is always welcome here."

"Hm? Oh. Good, good," the hobbit says, feeling a bit guilty at how often his boyfriend is over. " _Thank you_ ," he tells the elf sincerely, placing a hand on his arm. "I know he can be difficult, but no, someone else." He clears his throat, adding, "As well."

"Any friend of yours--" Legolas starts.

Bilbo coughs, blushing. "Well, me, personally, I've never met him."

Legolas has a strange feeling in his stomach and it is not from the amount he drank nor the food he ate. "Oh?"

"You don't have plans tonight, do you?" Bilbo asks, failing horribly at nonchalance.

Legolas's heart beats a little faster.


	3. Flashbacks and Matchmaking (Legolas Not Only Owns Jeggings But Wears Them Regularly)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the comments! I'll get back to all of you, like…now. (And because I live on the west coast, I haven't missed a day between chapters yet!)
> 
> (EDIT: Look out for the _Flight of the Conchords_ references in this one and likely in further chapters, provided that's what you are into…)

Legolas blames his father for the number of times he questions his appearance and his choice in clothing. It isn't as if Thranduil would approve the reasoning behind it, but he did have a tendency to preen and fuss until he looked absolutely perfect--in his own eyes, at least.

Legolas is not as bad as all that. It is only that he hasn't seen Gimli in five years. He lets out a deep sigh and wanders into Bilbo's room. The sheets have been stripped from the bed, and the hobbit is currently unfolding an alternate set from the linen closet, but it still smells like sex.

It baffles him a bit just how often the two fuck, but he supposes he'd be doing the same had he a partner--especially a mortal partner. Their relationship is new, only a couple of months in, but they've known each other longer than that and Legolas remembers how much Bilbo used to complain about the dwarf. A couple of months, he realizes again, and Thorin is ready to propose.

Love is complicated that way, he supposes. It's been years and yet he's certain he's in love with Gimli. Thorin had said he knows Bilbo is his One and Legolas knows dwarves don't use the term lightly.

He stands silently in the doorway for a moment before ducking in to help Bilbo with the sheets.

Bilbo is not so very surprised by Legolas's quiet presence, they've lived together a few years now, but he looks up--and up and up--at the elf and smiles, nodding his thanks.

When they finish, the hobbit places his hands on his hips and takes in Legolas's outfit. "Much better than the scrunchie and oversized jumper from earlier," he admits. "You look nice."

Legolas looks down at himself then up at Bilbo hopefully. "Have I put too much work into it?"

Bilbo thinks about what Legolas normally wears and shrugs. When they go out to dinner, Legolas wears jeggings. Last night at the bar, Legolas had worn an animal print scarf. He knows that Legolas doesn't want to be like his father and perhaps the rebellion is the reason for his fashion sense. Bilbo doesn't judge him, the poor boy.

Now, however, Legolas is definitely dressed up. He's wearing actual trousers and a button-up shirt done in elven style, but with a more recent flare to it. Bilbo is pretty sure he stole it from Thranduil, as with all his nicer belongings. Thranduil never noticed, his plethora of garments never diminishing enough for him to realize something has gone missing. Bilbo had to admit he liked the way Legolas's father dressed, but then he'd always been fascinated with anything elvish as a child, having listened to his mother's stories.

Legolas's hair falls loose around his shoulders and Bilbo puts a pillow on the floor and invites him to sit down on it. He begins braiding the elf's fine blonde hair on the sides and gathering half to tie back in another. To dwarves, braiding someone else's hair is still seen as rather intimate--not as much as it once was--but Bilbo also knows braided hair is a sure way to gain a dwarf's notice.

His own hair is too short to braid, to Thorin's occasional dismay, but he often braids his boyfriend's hair. When Thorin tells him this is--or was, Thorin can be a bit old-fashioned sometimes--a way of showing a claim, Bilbo laughs him off, but blushes and gives him a kiss anyway.

"Hannon le, mellon nin," Legolas tells him, grasping the hobbit's hands in his.

Bilbo waves him off, "It's no trouble." He gets out his phone, "I'll tell Thorin to wear something nice, as well."

Legolas breathes a sigh of relief. He had wondered if it was a bit much, but Bilbo is much better at judging this sort of thing. "Do you think he wants to see me?" Legolas asks, his subject obvious.

"Well," Bilbo says.

~

_"Invite him over," Bilbo tells Thorin and the dwarf looks at him suspiciously._

_"Why? What interest do you have in Gloin's son?"_

_Bilbo rolls his eyes, "Eru help me, the jealousy of dwarves." He smiles teasingly though, shoving Thorin lightly. "Please?"_

_"What am I to tell him?" Thorin says, sighing heavily as if Bilbo has tasked him with some great burden._

_Bilbo shrugs, attempting innocence._

_Thorin wraps his arms around Bilbo, he presses his lips briefly to the hobbit's neck before resting his bearded chin on his shoulder. "I know that you are up to something, my treasure, but I will do as you ask."_

_Bilbo hums happily and Thorin's deep chuckle reverberates through his body._

~

Bilbo's brow furrows slightly but he smiles, "Who wouldn't?"

Legolas shrugs and Bilbo pats his shoulder while he can still reach it. "Need any help with dinner?"

Bilbo shakes his head and herds Legolas out of his room. He ties on his apron and gets to work.

Legolas, meanwhile, decides he should get to work as well, but the kind that pays him. He's currently doing a freelance job that allows him to stay home and work from his laptop. It's fairly boring, this one, and he's been putting it off the past couple of days, but at least he can wear whatever he wants.

Wearing these clothes and working reminds him of when he's taken the odd IT job and had to follow a dress code. It's mostly awful, but there have been perks.

~

_No one in the office has the foggiest on how to use their new computers. Legolas can't understand how this is possible. He grew up in an age where even the idea of such things were beyond his reach._

_He had adapted though. He likes modern technology, always keeping up to date with the times. The place is filled mostly with men, but there are dwarves as well. A female dwarf sits at the front desk, her beard neatly trimmed as is the fashion nowadays._

_His friend Aragorn had gotten him the job and Legolas has reserved the right to complain about it anyway. He feels bad being petty when Aragorn has done him a favour, but if one more person asks him how to turn on their computer, he might scream. Even elves can get frustrated._

_Legolas remembers the old days, when people would try to hide behind their manners. It was a bit facetious, yes, but politeness could go far._

_He feels a tap to his back and swivels around, having to look down at the red-haired dwarf._

_The dwarf clears his throat, "Excuse me, but could I get some help?"_

_Legolas smiles brightly at the dwarf. "Of course." The dwarf had asked him rather gruffly, but he'd **asked**._

_He follows the redhead back to his desk and has to bend down awkwardly to work on the computer. It's actually not functioning and he has to check the cords in the back before troubleshooting the issues._

_Legolas perhaps steals glances back at the dwarf a few times as he goes. He starts running a scan and straightens. "What was your name?" he asks, hoping he doesn't sound creepy. He just...he wants to know. It's the personable thing to do, to ask._

_The dwarf meets his gaze rather defiantly, "Gimli."_

_Legolas nods and is silent for a moment, then notes the odd look on Gimli's face. "Legolas," he returns, hoping his forgetfulness isn't too obvious. He feels rather nervous. He hasn't felt that way in a while. He hesitates, wondering if he should shake the dwarf's hand but is already feeling as if he's coming off too awkward. His hand twitches and he straightens his shirt instead._

_Gimli coughs and looks away._

_"Right," Legolas says, swallowing. "I'll--I'll check back with you in a few minutes, master dwarf." Oh no, why has he said it that way? He gives a small bow and wishes he could fade that very moment as he walks away._

~

Legolas suddenly feels rather uncomfortable. In a combination of nerves, memories, and the amount he drank last night, he suddenly feels rather queasy. The first time they met had not gone very smoothly and he is fairly certain Gimli thought he was a freak for at least several days. It might've been a week, but things had gone better after that.

Bilbo, the tiny angel that he is, sets a cup of tea down next to him as if he knows the elf needs it right now. He probably does--hobbits know everything there is to know about comfort.

Legolas sips the tea and stares at his laptop for another ten minutes before sighing and giving up on work today. He's not sorted out enough to think about errors and fixing websites.

Meanwhile, Bilbo frets about whether or not he should have informed the dwarves of his plan. He will convince Thorin of his reasoning later and perhaps Gimli will be delighted with this surprise from his past.

It will work out for the best, he thinks.

Well, he _hopes_.


	4. The Anticipated Arrival of Their Guest and the Expected Awkwardness (Halfling's Leaf Helps)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this one took a bit longer. Work is terrible. But, hey, Gimli makes his first real appearance, so...

Legolas brings the cup to his lips and is startled when the doorbell rings. Hot tea goes sloshing into his lap and for about five seconds he just panics as he watches Bilbo dry his hands by the sink and begin his journey to the door. It's just a little too early for it to be Thorin, so it must be Gimli.

Dinner is sitting on the table, everything smells delicious, and they're completely ready for their guests, except that there is _hot tea on Legolas's trousers_. He runs into the bathroom.

Bilbo glances back to see a giant flash of blonde elf as the door closes behind him. He tries not to laugh. Despite what one may think given the way he dresses, Legolas is usually quite graceful, as an elf should be.

He clears his throat and straightens his shirt as he stands in front of the door. The guest may not really be for him, but he is still hosting someone else in his home. Besides, he'd like to get to know the dwarf that has Legolas so besotted.

He opens the door with a smile to find a red-haired dwarf with a respectable beard and a sweater on the other side.

Gimli's eyes narrow slightly and Bilbo can see him glancing around the apartment behind Bilbo and wondering if he's in the right place.

"Gimli, yes?" The dwarf begins to nod and Bilbo gives him a bright smile and tilts his head in invitation. "Bilbo Baggins, at your service."

"Ah, Thorin's halfling," he responds gruffly, then seems to realise how rude he's just been. "I've heard him talk about you," he amends. "Nice to meet you, at your service." It's a bit awkward but Bilbo expects this.

That doesn't make it instantly not awkward, however. Bilbo straightens his back, fixes his expression into the welcoming, but close-lipped smile and walks into the living room. "If you'd like to come this way, then. We've just got to wait a few minutes before dinner..." He trails off. They sit on the couch--the one Legolas always looks ridiculous lounging on with his laptop. Bilbo idly begins packing a bowl in his pipe, the calming response even this has being somewhat Pavlovian. He notices Gimli watching him as he lights it and after he's taken a large puff, offers it to the dwarf.

"What have you got here?" Gimli asks as he takes his own hit, politely lighting the side rather than scorching the whole bowl.

"Old Toby," Bilbo pronounces proudly. "I brought it with me after the last time I visited the Shire."

Gimli blows it out slowly. "Not bad," he says, surprised.

Bilbo does not take it as a slight and simply nods as he takes his pipe back from the dwarf. He thinks for a moment, "By the way, thank you for joining us. I'm not sure what Thorin told you, but I'm hoping..." He trails off into a hum as he puts the pipe back to his lips.

There's the slight creak of a door and an elf enters the room, his soft glow appearing through the plumes of smoke. Gimli is struck suddenly by the sight, the spark of recognition it brings. It's an elf he knows, and that's saying something.

It's...Legolas.

~

_Gimli hates asking for help. He supposes that's not an uncommon thing, and yet his coworkers seem to demand it every two seconds. It isn't his fault the damned machine is broken. He's tried all of the basic ways to fix the thing, turned it off and on again, but has yet had no luck._

_The elf sent over by the IT department is somewhat intimidating, however. What kind of elf does tech repair? He's frustrated, Gimli's certain, but it's his job to fix these things, isn't it?_

_He taps the elf's back, unable to reach his shoulder without making the whole thing stranger than it needs to be._

_The elf turns and he's beautiful. Of course he's beautiful, he's an elf. Gimli isn't normally taken by such sights. In fact, it annoys him that he's still thinking about it. When he asks for the elf's help and his face lights up in that smile, if Gimli's knees nearly go weak, it's that damn elf magic of theirs._

_"Of course," the elf tells him and follows him to his desk._

_The elf begins clicking things, and running into the same problems Gimli had. The elf has to lean over, his desk having been suited to dwarven height, and perhaps Gimli notices the way his shirt stretches across the flex of his back muscles. Perhaps not. Perhaps he's simply noting the fact that the elf's shirt could be a bit looser. It looks...uncomfortable. Yes, that's it. Or is that just the way Gimli feels when the elf bends down under the desk?_

_Mahal, that backside. He tries to look away, but as the elf moves it sways, and he feels drawn to the movements._

_Why is this happening to him? Elves are known for their beauty, but why must it hit him now?_

_The elf keeps glancing back at him and Gimli's certain he knows--and likely assumes Gimli is some sort of pervert. Gimli tries to look away, but it's probably too late if the elf has already turned to him._

_The elf is straightening up now and Gimli wonders how he got that close, backing up surreptitiously to give the elf room._

_"What was your name?" the elf asks._

_Why did he need to know? Mahal, is he going to report him? He didn't **do** anything, although he hears elves are very sensitive, some even to thought--although that seems like a fairy tale. These questions go through his head rapidly and he decides he's done nothing wrong. "Gimli," he says, trying to sound sure but knowing he might sound a bit combative after the fact--guilty, even._

_The elf nods and stares at him. Sizing him up? Gimli can hear his heartbeat in his own ears and wonders if he should say something more._

_"Legolas," the elf says finally, his fingers twitch as if he would like to shake hands, but he smooths his shirt instead. Of course he does, he wants to cover himself after Gimli has been caught ogling him so long._

_The dwarf feels foolish and he hates it, hates that for some reason this elf has caught his eye. There is something wrong with him, he's sure._

_Gimli coughs and decides to focus on a printer across the office. It seems safer._

_"Right," Legolas tells him, certainly noting his odd behaviour in that pretty head of his. "I'll--I'll check back with you in a few minutes, master dwarf."_

_Well, that was certainly a way to maintain distance between them._

_Gimli tries to be angry at the elf. After all, it isn't as if he **did anything**. Nothing untoward happened outside of his own thoughts and although he's rather embarrassed, had the elf any right to be so...superior?_

_Gimli watches him walk away, long legs and long blonde hair disappearing around the corner._

_He looks at his computer to see the scan running and realises he can't even distract himself with work._

_Coffee, that'll help._

~

Bilbo watches the two and realises neither is introducing--or rather, _re-introducing_ \--himself and butts in.

"You two know each other, don't you?" He notes the way Gimli's hand is frozen, his pipe still held between thick dwarven fingers, and remedies this by taking it back and setting it on the coffee table.

Legolas spares a glance toward Bilbo and the hobbit has never seen his roommate so obviously nervous. It's rather endearing.

Gimli is suddenly aware of how much cat fur is surely stuck to his sweater and wonders if attempting to brush it off would make it seem more awkward. "Legolas, was it?" he asks, humming. The halfling's leaf has gotten to him, but it's not a bad thing. He's entirely focused on acting nonchalant, disinterested, and the fact that he's in a new place with all sorts of things to see seems to help.

Legolas nods, then wants to kick himself. "Yes," he says. "And you are Gimli." Why has he dropped into a bow? He's lucky the dwarf doesn't seem to care enough to look at him. It hurts, but it benefits him. He can attempt to make a better impression this time. The dwarf may have forgotten some of his awkwardness.

"Right," the dwarf responds and Bilbo wishes they'd make this easier on him--and themselves.

"Thorin must be nearly here," Bilbo says and looks hard at Legolas. "Why don't you two catch up while I check on dinner." It's finished, of course, although he does have a pie in the oven.

Legolas takes the hint, even if his eyes are rather pleading as they watch Bilbo leave the room. He hovers at the edge of the living area before perching himself in a slouched chair. "My roommate is quite taken with Thorin Oakenshield," Legolas says, hoping to break the tension. It garners a chuckle from Gimli and he feels pleased, his chest and cheeks warm at the sound.

"Aye," Gimli tells him. "I'm certain the feeling's quite mutual."

There's a knock on the door and they can hear the faint sound of Bilbo's voice stuttering, "Thorin, well, you--you look just lovely."

"We had better retrieve them or dinner will go cold," Legolas tells Gimli, happy they have a subject unrelated to themselves to bond over.

When they reach the entryway and see Thorin's finely tailored clothes, it's no wonder why Bilbo is practically salivating.

Bilbo pretends he is unaffected and Thorin's smirk tells them that he knows what he does to his poor little hobbit. Legolas and Gimli are able to share secretive looks about it as they follow the two to the dinner table.

For a hobbit, it's surprising how uninterested Bilbo seems with the food...but perhaps his appetite lies elsewhere.

"It's nice to have you," Legolas says to Gimli, then panics. "Over," he adds, and the Valar would surely mock him as he can't help his mind from continuing down other paths. "For dinner," he finishes finally.

Thorin chokes, going into a bit of a coughing fit, and Gimli pats his fellow dwarf on the back in an attempt to relieve him. Legolas isn't certain whether he triggered the attack or Bilbo did as the hobbit looks suspiciously innocent in his concern.


	5. Bilbo's Sexual Proclivities and the Continuation of Dinner (The Pie!)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay here. My muse is in Hawaii. Damn her.
> 
> Oh, and here's your warnings: sexual content, awkwardness. (What do you mean that's the whole fic?)
> 
> The next chapter will focus more on Legolas and Gimli, but this one...it's mostly Thorin and Bilbo. Oops.
> 
> (And don't be afraid to leave a comment! They're very helpful in getting you new chapters. I assume you want new chapters...)

Before Thorin and Bilbo had started seeing each other, back when he had first met Bilbo, Legolas had thought Bilbo a proper--and perhaps a bit _too_ chaste--hobbit. He smoked pipe-weed, yes, but that is normal for a halfling, even in this age. Bilbo, although very nervous even discussing the subject, had expressed that he'd had little experience that way without explicitly stating what exactly that meant.

Even after Thorin had begun courting him--for that's how Legolas thought of it, despite knowing that it is simply called dating nowadays--Bilbo had been rather shy. Should the subject of his new relationship and sex come up, he would become uncomfortably flustered. Bilbo liked Thorin, but Thorin was frustrating and at times he wasn't sure if he could even stand him. Then there came a night that Bilbo did not come home. Legolas had not been sure whether he should be worrying or if his friend was just having a nice time, but after that, Bilbo had confided in him. He and Thorin had sex, simple as that--or at least that's all he'd told Legolas.

Given the fact that Legolas is gifted with the enhanced senses of elf-kind and Bilbo shares an apartment with him, some meanings have become quite obvious. The thing is...Bilbo can be somewhat uptight--which isn't necessarily a bad thing, nor good, however--but ever since he and Thorin began the physical aspect of their relationship a mere two moons ago, this has changed. Bilbo does not say it, nor had he given even the briefest hint in his own words of what they've done, but it is often.

It was only after Legolas had walked in on the two yesterday, completely by accident as he'd lost himself in a daydream, that he'd gotten any details as to their activities from Bilbo. Perhaps some find it to be rather crude to gossip about one's sexual activities and partners, but Legolas had been curious, and still is. There are, after all, many rumours about dwarves. He thinks of his father's call and then to his visit this morning and cringes. At least his _father_ hadn't seen them. He'd never hear the end of it.

Gimli's eyes flicker from Thorin to Legolas and the elf does his best to give him a reassuring look, or perhaps an apologetic one. In any case, he makes an odd face that Gimli assumes is supposed to be of some comfort to him despite the way the elf's nerves make it seem.

"Bilbo has not told me why he wished to invite you over, but it would seem you know Legolas." Thorin acts as if this is the most curious thing he has ever encountered and Bilbo looks about ready to bang his head on the table.

"Aye," Gimli confirms. "He was doing tech repair at the office a few years ago."

Legolas speaks up then, his hand tight around his fork, "It was a job Aragorn found for me." He frowns slightly.

Bilbo perks up slightly, "Oh, has Arwen--"

"No, not yet," the elf answers, knowing where his question was leading. "I suppose I ought to be grateful for the job, but--"

"Too many idiots," Gimli supplies with a small laugh. "Myself included."

"No, you were--" Legolas hopes his blush isn't too obvious. "You, at least, had a real problem." He thinks for a second and adds suddenly, "And you didn't grope my bum as a thank-you." He laughs softly, embarrassed, but it is Gimli's turn to hope that his blush is not too obvious.

This hope is likely ruined when his mouth opens anyway, "O' course, I would never--any respectable dwarf--" He swallows, his face now as red as his beard. "It's not as if you're there to-- What I mean is..." He trails off with a small harrumph.

Thorin looks between the two curiously and opens his mouth to speak, Legolas and Gimli darting glances at each other and looking away in case the other might be notice and pretend to focus wholeheartedly on their meal.

Bilbo quickly grabs his hand and gives it a squeeze.

"What?" Thorin asks and Legolas and Gimli turn their attention to him, then look away when they see Bilbo's face.

Their attention had not escaped Bilbo's notice and he folds his napkin and places it on the table. "I'm so sorry, it's very rude to interrupt dinner, but Thorin and I have something to discuss. In the other room."

"Is now the time? There's a guest--" Thorin starts as Bilbo attempts to drag him from his seat.

"We need to have a very _important_ conversation," Bilbo tells him, watching his dwarf's brows furrow in concern. He stands up on his toes and leans forward to whisper in Thorin's ear.

"Now?" Thorin asks, with little surprise.

The hobbit raises his eyebrows and bites his lip and knows that he has power over someone who is taller and stronger and comes from Durin's line, a would-be king.

Although Bilbo had done it to force Legolas into talking, alone, with Gimli, it also came from his real desire to have Thorin as soon as possible. He gives Legolas a raised eyebrow and a wave of his hand and feels as if he's doing the right thing as Thorin kisses him against the door of his room after they make their way inside.

Legolas's plate is mostly empty--elves do not need much--but he notices Gimli eyeing the bowls and reaches out pass one over. "Here," he says, "Feel free to have more, Bilbo always cooks enough for a hoard of hungry trolls."

"I've got it," Gimli tells him as he reaches for the bowl and their hands touch. The bowl doesn't fall, but it is a near thing as Legolas quickly pulls his hands away.

"Sorry," the elf says immediately and Gimli grumbles what sounds to be about the same, in intention if not in word.

~

Thorin has a very naked hobbit underneath him. He mouths Bilbo's throat and down his chest as his slicked fingers stretch him open. "Mahal..." he breathes, his warm breath ghosting over Bilbo's flesh.

"Thorin," Bilbo tries to say, but it's more of a whine. He turns his head to the pillow, mouth twisting.

The dwarf follows the line of his exposed neck up to his ear and runs his tongue over the point. Bilbo's cock presses against his stomach and his body relaxes around his fingers. His own cock is heavy, eager to take the pliant body. It is nearly time--

There is a noise from the kitchen, the long, whining beep of the oven timer and Bilbo lifts his head in alarm. "My pie!" It is a whispered shout and Thorin doesn't immediately move. Bilbo pushes at his shoulders, "Don't pretend as if Legolas knows how to check if a pie is done." He gives Thorin a _look_ and the dwarf, rolling his eyes, removes himself from his hobbit.

Bilbo grabs one of Thorin's shirt from on top of his dresser and slips it over his head before sneaking out the door.

Thorin knows he'll be back.

When Thorin had asked Bilbo out, Dwalin had told him it was a bad idea. Halflings are different, he told him, warning his friend of the tradition of hobbits and marriage.

 _"If he is my One, I will wait for him,"_ Thorin had replied. It sounded like sensitive diplomatic bullshit to the tattooed dwarf and he expressed this to Thorin in a more colourful manner. _"It is true though,"_ Thorin had said, and he meant it.

This all being said, Thorin had taken his friend's words to heart. He did not expect sex, but that certainly didn't mean he didn't _want_ it. He'd tried to be respectful, however. He'd never been so much as vaguely interested in a hobbit and Bilbo had changed that in a big way, just as he changed Thorin.

Thorin felt stronger with Bilbo around, but now he did not see the need to flaunt it.

After three weeks, Bilbo had come back to his place. This wasn't strange in and of itself; the two would often sit together and talk or watch television, creature comforts are of great value to hobbits--and dwarves, to an extent. Bilbo had looked at him and he had looked back at Bilbo and just as he had thought, _Mahal, I'd like to kiss you,_ it had been Bilbo that had leaned in.

It was Bilbo that led one thing to another until they stumbled into Thorin's bedroom. Bilbo who had stared into his eyes and nodded at the question that had gone unasked.

Thorin remembers this very clearly: the way Bilbo's eyes had squeezed shut when he had entered him, his breath catching and lips parted, the way his little hands had gripped his arms and that almost startled noise he'd made when Thorin began to move.

The dwarf grabs his cock and gives it a slow stroke, thinking of that first time.

The door creaks and he opens his eyes, not realising they had fallen shut.

Bilbo stands there in the doorway and Thorin listens to his breathing as it goes harsh. The hobbit is still wearing his shirt and only as he climbs astride the dwarf's hips does Thorin chuckle at the sight. Bilbo's skin is slightly chilled from wandering out in only that and Thorin rubs his hands over Bilbo's thighs to warm them.

"Here," he says, and his voice is rough and affectionate and Bilbo probably loves him, but it's too soon--far too soon--for that sort of thing, no matter that Thorin had already said it to him. He unbuttons the shirt and pushes it off Bilbo's shoulders, hands skimming up to them as if he can't help himself from touching all of the skin he has exposed.

Bilbo wriggles slightly, a shiver coursing through him.

"Are you cold, my treasure?"

It is such a strange thing to be called, but Bilbo supposes it makes sense to dwarves, who have quite the reputation for coveting anything of value. He is _not_ an object, and so he had told Thorin the first time he had used the term, but his boyfriend had shaken his head. _"No, you are simply the most important thing in all of Middle-Earth, in all of the universe."_ At Bilbo's denial, he had added, _"You are to me."_ Although Bilbo had made fun of him for all his ridiculousness and continued to question his use of the term, whenever he heard it, a warm, happy feeling would spread inside his chest, down to his belly and the tips of his hairy toes.

Bilbo nods and Thorin flips them over quite neatly, pulling the blanket atop his back and shoulders. "Better?" he asks, placing a kiss at the junction of Bilbo's neck and shoulder.

"Yes," Bilbo tells him, but it comes out breathy, Thorin's hard length a warm weight against his thigh rather distracting him from all else.

"I'm ready," he whispers, his leg attempting to pull Thorin into him.

Thorin's fingers move between his legs and his eyes go dark. "Indeed you are," he says, almost to himself, and swallows. He loops his arm under Bilbo's insistent leg, pulling it up by the crook of his knee, and positions himself. Bilbo is only half-hard, having gone out to the kitchen and returned, but his cock twitches.

"Please," Bilbo arches into him, "I..." His breath stutters.

"Say it," Thorin demands.

"I need you in me. Please, Thorin, please, oh--" He cuts himself off with a small cry as Thorin presses into him.

~

Legolas had done his best to ignore his roommate sneaking away after removing the pie from the oven. Like all of the hobbit's creations, the pie smells heavenly and he sees Gimli take note of it, slightly confused, as he had neither seen nor heard Bilbo.

Before he can say a word, he hears them and twitches, bumping his fork into his plate noisily.

"Are they," Gimli clears his throat, "you know?"

"Yes," Legolas replies, and an awkward silence--for their part--follows.

~

Bilbo has his legs wrapped around Thorin's, not yet ready to part from him. Thorin chuckles, beard scratching his collarbone as the dwarf presses a kiss to his throat, and it is then that it hits him.

It is odd, among hobbits, to engage so frequently--and vigorously--in sexual activities. Hobbits have always been a simple folk, which has led many to believe sex must be one of their main hobbies, but having been closed off for so long there in the Shire, old traditions had lasted them far longer than one might think. Comparatively, more hobbits than any other kind were unlikely or unwilling to share a bed until their wedding night. Sex is rather sacred to halflings.

Hobbits, however, often settle down with others they are compatible with, not their soulmate, as one must be truly blessed to find the one they are meant to be with. It is rare for a hobbit to find their One. Those that have described a feeling of being overcome with desire for their true love, or so it was more tastefully described in Bilbo's storybooks.

The thing is...Bilbo wants Thorin constantly. It is an ache in his soul when they cannot be together for even a seemingly short stretch of time. Thorin had gone away for the weekend to visit his family only a couple of weeks ago and Bilbo had missed him terribly. Nothing had felt right until their bodies had joined them as one again and Bilbo hadn't understood why he needed Thorin so desperately, so often.

Now, the picture is becoming a bit clearer, and it frightens him. Maybe he's overthinking things, he's rather baked from the Old Toby, but what if he's not? To find your One, that's a very big deal. He's only been with Thorin for a little while--what can still be easily measured in mere weeks although they make up nearly three months--and despite everything, how fast they had moved and how much time they spend in one another's company for all manner of reasons, it had never hit him that he is in a serious relationship.

Oh, Eru.


	6. Legolas Likes Gimli, Gimli Likes Legolas, It Shouldn't Be That Hard (How Questionable Are Legolas's Fashion Choices?)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took far longer than it should have. More awkward, no boning.

Things go a bit easier between Legolas and Gimli after that, giggling like children at Bilbo's complete and utter inability to keep his hands off of Thorin. It's embarrassing, but not so much to them personally, and it affords them a companionable sort of shared awkwardness.

"All the time?" Gimli asks again, disbelieving and Legolas relaxes a little more. At his sincere nod, the dwarf's brows furrow. "Wee bit odd, isn't it? Even for a dwarf." He flushes, wondering what he might be implying about his own sexual prowess--not that Legolas is interested in _his_ sexual proclivities, he's sure, but a dwarf can dare to dream.

"I wouldn't know," Legolas tells him, knowing that he hasn't been with _anyone_ in what feels like an age, then winces at a particularly verbose cry from the other room.

All goes quiet again, Legolas surreptitiously gazing in Gimli's direction and wondering if the extra braids in the dwarf's hair mean anything. Unconsciously, he fingers one of the braids in his own hair. They are tight and neat and there is a brief, wandering thought about Bilbo and his shorter locks. It is gone as quick as it comes and he tries again to look at Gimli's without being too obvious.

He's heard that different braids mean different things--to dwarves. Could one of those braids mean that Gimli is already promised to another? _Seeing someone,_ he mentally corrects. There are also rings on his fingers, but that is still fairly common for dwarves. It is only hobbits and men whose marital status can be so easily gauged by something so simple, such an otherwise commonplace piece of jewellery. His mind drifts back to the two in the other room again, the ring Thorin has for Bilbo, and he wonders if Thorin is a good gauge of what most dwarves are like. If, perhaps, asking Bilbo or Thorin for information could possibly make this easier for him.

He realises quite suddenly that he's not said a word to Gimli in far too long and sees the dwarf fidgeting and glancing at his phone.

"There's pie," he tells him, already getting up, "Would you like some? It's apple."

Gimli hesitates and Legolas worries that he's already ruined any chances he might have had, but finally Gimli nods. "Aye," he says. "Perhaps I smoked too much of that pipe-weed, but I'm still starving."

Legolas feels an odd sort of relief at that, even if he suspects it to be an exaggeration of the effect of the halfling's leaf. He's heard that hobbits breed the plant for extra potency, however, so perhaps not.

Gimli isn't certain his excuse is a good one--after all, is it better to tell him that it is the weed and have him assume he is a stoner or, and this could be worse, that he is so easily affected by what is, after all, a plant smoked by halflings? He nearly laughs aloud at his repetitively dramatic thoughts. That's some good pipe-weed. It doesn't help that he's trying very hard to concentrate on anything but staring at Legolas and it allows his mind to wander, mostly into thoughts on Legolas, but a few on Thorin and Bilbo. Gimli was but a babe when Thror had passed away, when it was decided that the time for monarchy and royals was over. Thorin was a prince, would've still been a prince.

Gimli shakes his head to clear away his odd contemplations and is greeted by a very generous portion of the pie. "Are ye sure, laddie?" he asks, but his fork is in his hand and he is extremely ready to dive in.

Legolas laughs and it is a small sound, not out of control with nerves like he feels. "Of course," the elf assures him, happy to see the dwarf's enthusiasm for _something_.

~

_It is the next day that Gimli arrives to find Legolas waiting at his desk, a mug in hand as he clicks away at his computer. He looks up when Gimli approaches and smiles as if he can't stop himself as he hands the dwarf another mug. "Tea?"_

_"Right, sure," Gimli replies, unnerved at the elf's polite gesture while Legolas meanwhile wonders if he's being too presumptuous._

_Legolas is grateful the dwarf takes pity on him and accepts._

_"I think I've figured it out," Legolas tells him and Gimli is thankful, but somewhat...disappointed._

_As Legolas explains, Gimli thinks of questions for him, all disguised as learning how to fix these problems himself or to trip up the elf, neither one of them is certain as he does it. "Well..." he says finally, "Good. Alright then." Except that it isn't alright at all, for some reason. He sips at his tea, humming as he does._

_"So..." Legolas begins, then realises he doesn't know where to go with it._

_Gimli thinks the elf must feel off put by his myriad of inquiries and decides to relieve him of it. "If I require further assistance, you're sure to hear of it." He gives the elf a firm nod._

_Legolas opens his mouth and closes it again. He doesn't want to overstep his place. "Certainly," he ends up on, smiling tightly and returning the nod._

_He begins to walk away only to find that he's left his mug on Gimli's desk and dashes back to snatch it up from over Gimli's shoulder. He wants to apologise but the words don't come, so after a stuttering pause, he walks swiftly to the copy room._

_Gimli watches him step through the doorway and thoroughly quashes any thoughts about bending the elf over the copier--because he does not have any sort of **thing** for Legolas, **not** because he knows logistically that fantasy couldn't work given their heights._

~

After the pie is finished, Legolas comes to the realisation that Gimli is leaving soon and, gathering his courage, comes up with a way to not leave it like last time. He will ask him out. It is only sensible. He does not know yet if Gimli may feel the same; he's fairly certain that the dwarf doesn't, but that could just be his subconscious trying to convince him out of trying. It's frightening, the possibility of rejection looming heavily over his thoughts.

"Would you like to get coffee sometime?" He sees Gimli's hesitation. "To catch up? Tonight has been..." He trails off, hoping that if Gimli decides to fill in the blanks, it won't dash all of his hopes completely.

Nothing comes.

To be honest, Gimli is rather shocked. He doesn't believe for a moment Legolas is actually asking him out on a _date_ and when the explanation of catching up is mentioned, he figures elves are simply sentimental. He's flustered anyway, his crush resurfacing in the form of a bubble of discomfort and a blush. He nods his head in the affirmative as Legolas sets the date and time and Gimli, to his immense pleasure, gets to argue about it. Legolas rearranges the plan until it works and doesn't seem to mind the bickering since Gimli has said yes.

Legolas is very excited for their date, so when they settle on the following Friday at half-ten in the morning, he writes it down in flowing script on the refrigerator as a reminder.

"Gimli is leaving," he calls out and receives muffled shouts of goodbye from Thorin and Bilbo.

"Tell Bilbo he makes a fine meal," Gimli passes along to Legolas and the elf notes his sidelong glance towards Bilbo's bedroom as he leaves.

"I shall meet you Friday then," Legolas says and Gimli nods, again.

After the door is shut firmly behind the dwarf, Legolas has a moment of anxious excitement to himself.

Gimli said yes and they bickered and it was wonderful. Well, Legolas thought so, anyway. He had avoided calling him "master dwarf" at the end there and that at least had to count as an improvement--it had been a near thing, to his embarrassment.

Would it be appropriate to ask Thorin what Gimli's braids had meant, if anything? Would he be expecting a courting gift? Some dwarves still preferred the old ways. Would it be inappropriate if Legolas brought him something and if it wasn't inappropriate in general then what sort of gift would be most appreciated given their circumstance? Legolas would like to make better impressions this time, to do this right--whatever that meant--and these questions all swirled around his head until he didn't know what to think. For some reason, Legolas felt like he should knit something for the dwarf; he did seem fond of his sweaters. It didn't need to be a big deal or anything. The thing is, his knitting is not the best. He tries, but he'd rather ask someone with experience than search the internet for tips. He has embraced technology, yes, but he has always been a better visual learner, especially if he can find a teacher.

Legolas could remember when Bilbo had had a whole group of dwarves over and there had been one who could knit just about anything. He couldn't quite remember the dwarf's name, unfortunately, but he knew him to be Dwalin's boyfriend. Thinking back, the other dwarf seemed a bit young for Dwalin, but he supposed he could also be the reason Dwalin had softened since their first meeting--if ever so slightly.

Legolas did not have the knitting dwarf's number and for Friday would certainly not be enough time to knit something worthy of courtship. He would put that on the back burner for now and concentrate on more important things, like what to wear. Gimli had only seen him in his normal clothes once and he decides it would be best never to repeat that incident.

~

_He's running late for work, as is not unusual for Legolas. He hadn't had time this morning to find his proper uniform and is instead rushing out in leggings and what might better constitute a dress than a shirt considering its length. He will describe it as a tunic should anyone ask. He thinks it's a fine outfit for everyday outings, but he knows that should a supervisor come by, they will question his lack of uniform._

_Another pair of boots stolen from his father complete the outfit in a way Legolas is rather proud of, so long as no one asks about his uniform._

_The so-called uniform is simple, black trousers and a white button-up, so it's not so much a uniform, **per se** , but rather basics they expect everyone to have and wear. In fact, it's assumed anyone doing the job would be wearing something like this anyway. The guidelines are only given as part of company policy. Legolas thinks of them very much as a real uniform, however._

_It is Gimli's reaction of "what happened" that has Legolas questioning his own wardrobe. "I left in a hurry," he explains, wondering what exactly is so wrong about his clothes._

_Gimli eyes him warily and offers him a cup of tea--green tea, which he knows Gimli doesn't care for--and his stomach does a little flip. He can't enjoy the gesture though, too caught up in embarrassment over Gimli's judgement. His father had turned a disdainful eye over something similar he'd worn, but he can't quite figure it out._

_He doesn't dress like his father unless he's stolen the clothes straight from Thranduil's oversized closet._

~

Legolas changes into his soft nightshirt and sighs. The pattern of stars reminds him of when he was only a child in the Greenwood forest, running around with Tauriel and naming everything they saw in the skies. He makes himself a cup of tea and longs for her advice. They haven't spoken since Thranduil stopped favouring her.

Tauriel has always been interested in dwarves. Perhaps it is finally time to mend things between them. Legolas is certain once she hears of his situation, she'll laugh, if nothing else.

Bilbo sneaks out of his bedroom for the second time that night and he makes another pot of tea. The friends drink in silence, caught up in their thoughts of dwarves and what the future may bring.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case anyone was wondering what I'm referencing: http://youtu.be/Mg0jS6F4M10
> 
> (If that one is shit, I'll find a better link later. It's "Leggy Blonde" by Flight of the Conchords, if you want to google/YouTube a different copy.)
> 
> Edit: Oh, and next chapter should have some world-building and/or introduction of other characters. Anyone or anything you're curious about?


	7. Thorin and Bilbo are Ridiculously in Love and Also Other People Do Some Things

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, this took too long to post. It's been sitting like this nearly since the last chapter, and I decided I just needed to post it already. I'm graduating _college_ in, like, less than two months and this semester is just...fucking with me.
> 
> Er. Not that any of you needed to know that. [Tru](http://impala-for-trenchcoats.tumblr.com) requested the last bit. So. Uh. Enjoy?

Thranduil's long robe drags across the floor of his apartment and Elrond resists the urge to pick it up off the floor.

"My son is practically _living_ with _nogothrim_ ," Thranduil heaves; he has been complaining for a while now, but Elrond knows it is partially his fondness for the sound of his own voice. He is quite used to it, and yet he can't help but to continue listening. Thranduil has rather a flare for the dramatic and he finds himself sucked in, in one way or another. "And that halfling," Thranduil continues, "he allows himself to be _taken_ by one of _them_."

Elrond hides his smirk behind his hand. Thranduil is repeating himself, but it gives him a rather fortuitous opening. "If memory serves, you've had experience in that area, as well." He plucks at the hem of his coat, it borders on a robe, but the twins insisted he update to something "from this age" and had thus chosen it for him.

Thranduil shoots a sharp glare over his shoulder then fixes his hair. "It was a different age," he says calmly. "When they still had gold and riches and gemstones that gleamed brighter than the stars themselves." His eyes lose focus as he gazes upon something that can now be seen only in his memory.

Elrond sighs, rolling his eyes at his friend, overly aware of Thranduil's past...flirtations. Unfortunately, he also cannot forget having his own encounter with Thranduil. There is some benefit to being one of many--not that anything _too_ serious transpired between the two elves. Thranduil had ultimately tumbled into bed with someone else that same night, although Elrond occasionally wonders what has the blonde's lovers so enamoured afterward.

Thranduil turns back to give him a hard stare and a much needed change of subject given the direction his thoughts had taken. "What is that you're wearing?"

~

Gimli has no fantastical ideas in his head about making a coffee date--coffee _meeting_ \--more than it is. Legolas is an elf and elves are strange, that's all.

If, perhaps, he still finds himself attracted to the elf, well, that is his body's problem. What would he do with an elf anyway? And, Mahal's beard, what would his father say?

It isn't as if they are living an age ago, when mixing with other races would have been out of the question, but he's heard some of the dwarves grumble about Thorin's choice to pursue a hobbit--even if it seems that Mahal himself had decreed Bilbo to be Thorin's One. If a hobbit is so dubious a choice, then an elf...that is just completely out of the question.

And Gimli doesn't like him anyway. Not like that. How can he? Legolas is too tall and his hair is too straight, not to mention that he has no beard--even men can _grow_ beards--and he is odd. Oh, and beautiful. Too beautiful to have any interest in a dwarf like Gimli.

Where had that thought come from?

Gimli is great. He is a fine specimen of a dwarf and he has his pride. So what if Legolas doesn't want him, he is obviously good enough for anyone he'd want. There just isn't anything between them--on _either_ side.

He's fine with that.

Really.

~

Legolas knows Bilbo is off when the hobbit makes no comment about the shirt he's wearing--there's not even a grimace that he would then try to hide in a swallow of lukewarm tea. _"Tea's gone cold,"_ he would say in explanation, but even Legolas knows this shirt is questionable.

"Did you sleep?" Bilbo asks, and although he does it in all earnestness--Bilbo cares, Bilbo always cares--his distraction is evident.

"Yes, actually," Legolas replies, sitting down beside the hobbit and stretching his long legs out in front of the sofa. Bilbo's feet dangle, but it had been the best they could do at a compromise. "Where's your other half?"

Bilbo flusters slightly, "It's not as if he lives here. He's got his own home to get back to, you know."

Legolas peers at him curiously and knows that this is not the time to push. "Of course," he says.

Sipping his tea, Bilbo nods, "We've only been seeing each other a couple of months. It's not so--so terribly _serious_."

"Oh," Legolas is already sliding a laptop over, as if he isn't paying much mind to Bilbo at all. "Do you love him though?" He doesn't look at his friend, instead staring intently at the screen.

"Well, I--" The hobbit hesitates. Every sign points to yes, but there is such a thing as looking before you leap and his grandmother taught him well. He may have leapt into bed too quickly for her sensibilities to comprehend, but it had been because he--because... Bilbo clears his throat, "Don't elves believe in, what is it? Finding some sort of soul mate?"

"We do." He taps idly at the keyboard and glances over at Bilbo. "Do hobbits?"

Bilbo shrugs noncommittally, "Some do, I suppose."

"Do you?"

Bilbo flushes and stares down at his tea. "Could there really be such a thing?"

"Does the idea frighten you or the fact that you have found yours?"

Bilbo looks up at him, eyes wide and mouth open, but Legolas is smiling gently at him. "I don't know that he's--but even if he is, what is that supposed to mean?"

"Does he love you?"

"Yes," Bilbo replies, no doubt in his mind.

"Then what matter is there to worry over? Be happy." His smile is cautiously returned by the hobbit and he begins doing actual work.

Bilbo harrumphs, mentally challenging the idea of soulmates even as he knows his real fear is of what it means to be so sure already that you have found the one you're supposed to be with. Forever is a long time, longer for dwarves than it is for hobbits, and that only makes the truth worsen.

He resists the urge to call Thorin for the hundredth time that day. There is nothing wrong with a bit of space--practically millimeters, really--but, oh, Eru, what he wouldn't give to have his fingers tangled in Thorin's hair as the dwarf--

Bilbo cuts the thought off. There is something about the old stories that rings far too accurately with him for his liking.

~

Thorin checks his phone and Bofur steals it from him.

"He hasn't texted you, so what? Leave the bloody thing alone for just a moment, won't you?"

Bifur looks between the two of them but only whispers a word or two in Khuzdul to Dori, who shakes his head. "What has you so concerned?"

"He hasn't asked me over in two days," Thorin admits.

Dori and Bofur share a glance.

"Two whole days, you say," Dori ponders, even he has trouble hiding his laughter here.

"Bilbo and I have never gone this long without--" He clears his throat.

Bofur nudges him, grinning and scowling.

"Mahal," Thorin sighs, shaking his head.

~~~

BONUS:

Saruman takes a long draw from his pipe and passes it over. Radagast takes it, smiling as if unable to do otherwise.

The white wizard eyes the state of Radagast's hair; although no longer a nest, it is a tangled mass of brown that should not be seen by any living being, not even his precious hedgehog.

Saruman only realises he's lost himself in the examination of Radagast's hair when he notices the other wizard has now packed a new bowl.

"You should really brush it, you know," he tells him with an offhand gesture as he takes the offered pipe. He blows out a long, slow stream of smoke, adding, "Even animals groom themselves."

Radagast just hums and nods and takes a hit, forming a rabbit that hops across the room. He laughs, eyes twinkling as he sees the slight smile on Saruman's face as he watches it.

He places his hand over Saruman's, but he isn't reaching for the pipe.

Saruman looks at him questioningly, but any confusion is quickly replaced by a warmth even Radagast rarely sees. He inhales another hit, the bowl still cherry, and leans towards the brown wizard.

Radagast parts his lips and Saruman passes his hit, ending it with a soft press of lips to his husband's.


	8. An Update on Everyone's Lives (Thorin and Bilbo Have a Turn at Pining)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay. So. I apologize for how short this chapter is and how long it took, but I really just needed to write something to get me back into the swing of things. Feel free to shout things at me in the comments (i.e. _Why the fuck do you take so long?_ ). Haha. I meant to post this chapter, like, a week ago. Whoops.

Legolas tells Thranduil he'll join him for dinner for the express purpose of raiding his father's closet.

He loves him, he really does, but he also maybe wants to impress Gimli at their coffee date. Bilbo is being more unusual than he can quite stand--obviously missing his boyfriend and snippy because of it--so a few hours with Thranduil has a certain appeal to it at this point.

"Iôn nin," Thranduil greets, sounding as delighted as he ever does. He then takes a moment to take in Legolas's outfit.

The younger elf is wearing a loose t-shirt and oversized sunglasses atop his head--his hair a messy crown of a braid with the glasses tucked into it.

Thranduil lets out a long-suffering sigh and plucks the glasses off of his son's head, depositing them in a waste bin that Legolas immediately scoops them back out of as soon as his father has turned his back. He tucks them into his tote bag.

This is going to be about as much fun as he had expected. He lets out a sigh.

~

Gimli hears stories about how ridiculous Thorin is acting now since Bilbo has apparently "scorned" him. It's a combination of anger, frustration, and sadness that make him a pain to deal with.

Well, he was always kind of a pain, but he'd gotten a lot better since he met Bilbo. The older dwarves say that finally accepting and being with your One brings peace of mind, makes you softer if only because it brings balance.

Gimli isn't certain whether or not that's a load of rubbish, but he had seen firsthand how smitten Thorin had been with Bilbo--and vice versa.

He wonders if it might be inappropriate to ask Legolas about it at coffee tomorrow, but given the way everyone is being made to suffer, he decides it doesn't matter if he's overstepping bounds or not. It's for the good of all dwarves, perhaps, that Thorin Oakenshield is happily in love. Even without titles, Thorin is an important dwarf. Some still view him as royalty, having been raised with the idea in their thick skulls.

Gimli, however, just thinks that Thorin is worthy of respect and has a capacity in his heart for kindness that he can appreciate. Despite everything, there is an open-mindedness there, somewhere in his conflicted ideologies, that Gimli shares. Both are still influenced by old prejudices, but, Mahal's beard, they've perhaps befriended the same elf--the offspring of insufferable Thranduil, no less.

This must mean something.

~

Bilbo tries finding release by his own hand, but it is not the same. His body craves Thorin like it does food or water, like he might die without him.

If anything, this makes Bilbo more resolute in his refusal to call upon his boyfriend. He has always been a pragmatic hobbit, always reasonable and realistic. He had fantastical ideas in his head, no doubt, but he knew the world from fiction. It is just...his world now seems to be colliding with what he'd come to think of as fiction.

Hobbits had legends, those storybooks he'd read, tales told to the fauntlings about love and magic. He certainly knows that magic is real, although it's hold on Middle-Earth wanes with each passing of an age.

He had always thought that perhaps the idea of finding your One, however, had been nothing more than a story in the way of hobbits. It is so rare to hear of someone saying this of their partner that it simply seems an exaggeration--and likely is, in most cases. Even their legends were rare, so it had seemed reasonable enough to assume that perhaps hobbits did not experience such a thing, but had _borrowed_ tales from the other races.

It is not so hard to imagine, given how aged the stories had seemed. Even now the Shire remains fairly insular, although it has begun to open up more and more in recent years. That once upon a time, the hobbits of ages past had collected legends of true love from the likes of dwarves and elves or even Men is not so farfetched.

Bilbo does not wish to believe that he is some cog in the machine that is fate or destiny or anything of the like, even if he does appreciate the stories.

He is just...

He is just...

Bilbo swipes away at the tears and feels as if his body is betraying him. He wants to be close to Thorin so badly that it hurts.

It hurts. No matter how irrational it might be.

~

Thorin stares at the ring and knows that he has made no mistake in his choosing.

Bilbo is his One. Every fibre of his being sings it, his heart and mind as one on the subject of his hobbit.

And yet he is losing hope with each moment that passes and Bilbo does not seek him out. He is frustrated at what it means.

He has become short with even his friends, with even the simplest of questions.

What if Bilbo does not feel the same as he does? There is no lore--none that has escaped the confines of their corner of the world, that is--that discusses the idea of halflings finding their One. From all that Bilbo has said, marriage is often a matter of practicality and the common sort of love among hobbits, not that there is anything particularly wrong with that. Thorin can understand it, to some degree, in a society that lives so so simply in the ordinary rather than in the embrace of magic and legend.

He is certain that Bilbo is his One, but that does not necessarily mean the feeling is mutual. It is possible that he was merely a boyfriend to the hobbit, nothing more serious than that. Bilbo has barely spoken a word--barely written a word--to him in days and Thorin isn't certain what he might have done wrong.

He hides the grief of his realisation behind harsh words and righteous anger.

Thorin has found his One, has been with him, only to find that the being he desires most does not desire him any longer.


	9. Father-Son Dinner and the Sweet, Sweet Fuck of Desperation (Also, A Brief History of Legolas and Love)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oops. Still late. Sexual content. (No surprise to any of that, I'm sure.)

“Ada, stop,” Legolas says, the tines of his fork scraping against his plate.

Thranduil looks up, as if unaware he had said anything that one might find offensive. This is far from the truth, however, and Legolas knows it.

Legolas also knows that forcing his father into the common tongue is the easiest way to amend this. For some reason, using Westron brings his complaints back to their usual level of annoyance. He is quite used to speaking it, Legolas knows, whether with the other races or among friends such as Elrond.

Legolas is envious of the twins, of Arwen, for their father is not so mired in the old ways of the elves as his own. Their standing in the Greenwood--Sindarin among so many Silvan--had been a factor an age ago, less perhaps, but now they are to assimilate. Their status has not fallen drastically, but it is a different time and different things have become important in the world.

Thranduil has wealth, of course, and likely always will, even with immortality against him in this regard, but it is not as it once was and it is not like the riches of the ancient dwarven kingdoms he had so coveted.

Legolas watches his father’s expression and is surprised when he receives a slow, but distinct, nod. “I did not mean to offend, Legolas,” Thranduil says, and it is not often he sounds both apologetic and sincere. The older elf raises an eyebrow and Legolas can see it there, behind everything, the care of a father to his child.

Thranduil had always been rather standoffish, but he had always claimed to have had Legolas’s best interests in mind. Although Legolas has often doubted the reality of these claims, there is something in all that Thranduil does that holds true, at least in the former king’s mind. So Legolas takes pity. “I know, ada,” he murmurs.

Thranduil looks pleased with him. That is, until, their conversation resumes. “What is it that you plan for yourself, iôn nin? It is not often an elf finds their One so late in life.”

Legolas is not old, but it is true that most elves find their soul mates within the first half-century or so of their lives. His One had not yet been conceived until long after Legolas had lived a century, an age even, so it is no surprise that he had previously thought himself to be of those that do not hold a tie to another. It had been a relief, however, to have confessed to Tauriel and been told that she had not yet any sign of her own destined mate either. Back then, Thranduil had simply been pleased that Legolas had not held any interest in Tauriel. If he had been fated to a Silvan elf at that point in the history of Mirkwood--the Greenwood having fallen into shadow--his father would have surely thrown a fit, if in a rather dignified way.

Legolas’s hands busy themselves in his hair, thinking of the braids Bilbo had done for him the other day. He cannot ignore his father’s question forever, he knows, but he is not opposed to delaying it. Elves can spend a lifetime in hesitation, simply waiting for the right moment, should they wish to, but Legolas is an elf of the modern era, and he does not wish to play such ridiculous games. After all, to waste a lifetime would be to waste away his chance at being with his One and although he may never get all that he desires anyway, it is far too large a risk.

Thranduil has, tentatively, resumed eating despite his question lingering in the air.

Legolas can sense that Thranduil still expects an answer, _wants_ it in any case, although he cannot force the issue too much. “I will tell you when there is that to tell,” Legolas informs him, the ambiguity leaving enough room for both truth and false assumption.

Thranduil watches him a moment. “I suppose I cannot ask for more.”

The response is fishing, in its tone, for further explanation, but given the current state of Legolas’s love life or lack thereof, there isn’t anything he can break on anyway. It is a rare time for him when he must feel a twinge of regret, of guilt, for not telling his father of his One, but he does not wish to tell another. His woes are his own and unless there is something to be made of it, unless he can seek advice or has found hope that Gimli may truly share his feelings, and Legolas has neither reason to tell his father.

Legolas hopes, rather desperately, that his coffee date goes well, although he suspects it will take more than hope in his relationship with Gimli--should it even be called that--before he is willing to risk mentioning the dwarf’s existence to his father.

~

Bilbo bites his lip. He had not been able to speak the words, to risk the sound of Thorin’s voice, but he could wait no longer. _Come over_ , he had sent, without regard to Thorin’s previously busy social schedule--to anything, really.

There had been no response as of yet and Bilbo’s thoughts turned desperate. What could he say? He must’ve offended the dwarf and pride is no small thing to their kind, especially those of Durin’s line. Thorin is, perhaps, the proudest dwarf he knows and yet he expects him to come at his every beck and call after avoiding him for some days.

Thorin does not exist to fulfill his every whim and Bilbo knows this, really. It’s silly of him to expect anything other than the same treatment he’s given the dwarf, the near silence. Even if the dwarf would like to acquiesce to Bilbo’s sudden request, it may not be feasible at this time. It’s rather late, anyhow, and although Thorin doesn’t necessarily sleep early, even that explanation isn’t out of the question.

There is a fear, coiling in the pit of his belly, that Thorin will have given up on him by now. He is an attractive dwarf, highly sought after for his wealth and status although those things mean nothing to Bilbo, so it is entirely possible Thorin could’ve found someone else--a dozen others, even.

Bilbo is not yet willing to face the meaning of his reaction to Thorin, nor his feelings for the dwarf. He has rationalised that it is rather absurd to deny himself the heat of his boyfriend pressed up against him, pressed into him. He shifts, the images of all that Thorin has done to him, has done with him, could be doing to him now, sticking thickly to his thoughts, stubborn and all-consuming.

His hand is slightly sweaty as he pulls out his phone again, having had no indication of an answer and seeing that there has not been any reply--he has not felt so much as a phantom vibration from his phone since sending the original message. He types _Please_ , but has not yet hit send when he hears the pounding on his door.

Bilbo rushes over as silently as he can and peeks through the peephole. “Thank Eru,” he breathes, and slowly opens the door.

If anything, Thorin has gotten _more_ attractive, but this idea might have more to do with the fact that Bilbo has not seen him in days than anything else.

“Bilbo,” Thorin says, swallowing. He looks nervous and Bilbo doesn’t like it, doesn’t like what it seems he has done to this strong dwarf.

Bilbo nods his head awkwardly. “Thorin,” he manages.

Thorin is silent, simply breathing and taking in the sight of his beloved. The message did not convey any emotion, did not mean that Bilbo had asked him here for any other reason than perhaps making their break up official.

Bilbo clears his throat and steps aside, gesturing for Thorin to follow. “Come in, come in,” he says. “I’m-- I am.” He inhales deeply. “Sorry. I am sorry about my…lack of communication.”

Thorin looks at him oddly. “I had wondered…”

He leaves the words lingering there between them and Bilbo can see that Thorin had not completely lost faith no matter what he himself had considered for a day or two there. “I’m so sorry,” he says in a rush and he sways forward only to be captured in Thorin’s arms. “I was being stupid. I shouldn’t’ve--” He exhales sharply through his nostrils and buries his face in Thorin’s chest. “Forgive me,” he murmurs, the words nearly drowned out in cloth and flesh.

“I was afraid you had lost interest in me,” Thorin murmurs, his nose pressed to the crook of his hobbit’s throat. “I didn’t know what to think.” He pulls back, his hands on Bilbo’s shoulders and his eyes full of concern. “What had you so distant, Bilbo?”

Bilbo blushes, shaking his head. “It was nothing,” he says. “It _is_ nothing. I’m so sorry, Thorin. Can I-- May I make it up to you?”

Thorin doesn’t look quite convinced by Bilbo’s answer, but he gives him a hesitant nod and Bilbo kisses him harder than Thorin can remember ever having been kissed--which is quite a feat.

Bilbo presses a kiss to Thorin’s throat, his hand swiftly working open the fly of Thorin’s trousers before he’s dropping to his knees there in the narrow hallway.

Thorin leans back against the wall, somewhat surprised. Only moments ago, he had been nearly certain Bilbo was done with him and now the hobbit is nuzzling his rapidly hardening cock through the thin fabric of his pants. Bilbo’s breath is hot against him and his hands scrabble to release Thorin’s erection and wrap his lips around it. Thorin watches as Bilbo engulfs him, the bob of his head.

Bilbo makes little needy noises around Thorin’s cock and Thorin places a hand on his neck, disrupting him enough to look up.

“I want to be in you,” he says, and it’s as if he’s reading Bilbo’s mind.

Bilbo retreats and staggers up to his feet. “Right. Shall we just--” He thinks of going to his bedroom, the door close, but even that distance seems too much. He strips himself quickly of his trousers and whispers, “ _Please_.”

“Here?” Thorin chuckles, although the heat of his gaze belies the incredulity of his question. “We haven’t any--”

“I’m… I might’ve already…” The words are hard to get out but it seems Thorin understands him, despite the furrow of the dwarf’s brows.

Thorin turns Bilbo around against the wall and although normally Bilbo might take offense to this sort of treatment, he’s beyond desperate at this point--it’s unimaginable how he might feel should they be separated for any significant amount of time. He feels Thorin’s fingers against him, hears the sharp intake of breath, and then Thorin’s hands are moving from his arse to his hips and he bites his lip as Thorin’s cock nudges into him, sinks in slowly.

“Mahal,” Thorin murmurs. He doesn’t move other than to press his face into the nape of Bilbo’s neck and breathe him in.

The hobbit squirms. “ _Thorin_.”

Thorin smirks and kisses him. Despite the way he’d love to hear Bilbo beg, Thorin is nearly as close to wit’s end as Bilbo. He shifts in, moves just enough to hear Bilbo’s breath catch before he truly begins to fuck him.

Bilbo does his best to press himself back against Thorin, to fuck himself on Thorin’s cock. His own is hard between his belly and the wall and it’s somewhat uncomfortable as the motion presses him in ever closer but he hasn’t been fucked now in what feels like an age and to have Thorin with him, in him, is almost _overwhelming_.

Thorin seems to sense this and maneuvers Bilbo’s back into his chest and takes the hobbit in one large hand stroking him in a staccato rhythm but Bilbo can’t stop moaning, the noises escaping him without any regard for what sort of embarrassment he _should_ be feeling about now.

“I’ve missed you,” Thorin says, gathering his bearings enough to think for one second of anything other than the feel of being with his One again.

Bilbo tries to nod in agreement, to second the sentiment, but he can’t even begin to concentrate. He’s already close, giving in completely to the feeling of being taken so completely, the sensations reaching down to his toes.

Thorin nuzzles behind an ear, his breath heavy and the sound of it satisfying to Bilbo’s ears--the point of one being gently bitten as Thorin continues to pound into him, and then he’s-- He’s--

“Oh, _Eru_ \-- Thorin, Thorin--” And that’s it, Bilbo is spending himself in Thorin’s hand. With just a few more thrusts, Thorin is coming, too.

Thorin sighs against the back of Bilbo’s neck and skims his fingers over Bilbo’s thigh and upwards under the fabric of his shirt. “I love you, my treasure,” he says, and he’s so happy to be able to say those words again.

Bilbo doesn’t say the words back, the fear gripping him suddenly, but the tension melts away almost as quickly as it comes when Thorin just holds him.

It’s…nice.


	10. Thranduil Cares and the Company Converses (It Could Be Worse)

Thranduil is happy enough to leave well enough alone, for now, but he enjoys speaking to his son, seeing him. “How is your dinner?” he asks, gesturing to the nearly empty plate.

Legolas looks up at his father, managing a small smile. "It's good, Ada. It's my favourite."

"I know," Thranduil says with a smile of his own, his hand holds his chin as he gazes at his son, pleased.

"Will you compliment the chef for me?" Legolas requests politely, earnestly.

Thranduil's expression nearly falls, judders, but he recovers quickly. "Of course, iôn nin," he says, adding an air of purposeful nonchalance as he does and sipping from his wine glass. It wouldn't do to make a scene over something so insignificant. He will not tell Legolas of the time he spent making this himself in the hopes that it would be to his son's liking.

"Hannon le, Ada."

~

Bofur seats himself at the table and looks around. "No Thorin?" he asks, brows furrowing.

"He disappeared without a word about, oh, an hour ago," Dwalin tells him.

"I think he got a message from his _boyfriend_ ," Ori adds, then shares a look with Dwalin. Their faces split into grins and Bofur's soon follows.

"I see," Bofur says, stroking his beard. His eyes are laughing and, in the corner, Dori is explaining the turn of events to Bifur in Khûzdul.

Bombur's chair scrapes the floor as he stands, heading into the kitchen. "I can eat his share then," he shouts to the others and the room is filled with laughter for a moment.

It's only when Bombur has sat back down, plate laden with food, that Bofur's expression turns serious.

"But what if it isn't the good kind'a meeting?" he wonders. "Thorin was mighty concerned that the hobbit was no longer interested in what he was sellin'."

Ori opens his mouth to speak, a bit confused, but then Dwalin's hand settles over his thigh and gives it a squeeze. He glances up to Dwalin's raised eyebrow and rather significant look and squeaks, "Oh." He clears his throat. "You mean-- Right."

Bofur rolls his eyes, "Not that, exactly--" It's too late, however.

Ori's blush is so bright that Dwalin can't help but lean in and press a sloppy kiss to his cheek. "As if you have any reason to be so naïve," he murmurs, just loud enough for Ori's ears. It seems impossible, but Ori may have turned a shade redder.

Dori turns a glare in their direction and Dwalin holds his hands up.

"What?" he says, as if he had never touched the other dwarf's brother inappropriately. He's distracted again by Ori, but only for a moment before he's coughing into his hand and acting as if the conversation hadn't been derailed. "Bilbo's an upstanding sort of bloke," Dwalin says, having mostly gotten over his problems with the halfling even if he is yet unwilling to admit this to Bilbo. "I doubt he'd even be _buyin'_ if it weren't serious."

" _Wasn't_ serious," Ori corrects quietly. It's mostly ignored.

"But if he was buyin'--and he was _definitely_ buyin'," Nori gives a little leer and earns himself a shove from Bofur beside him, "then who's to say he couldn't start buyin' elsewhere."

Balin clears his throat disruptively. "I'm quite certain we've gone off the topic at hand," he says, a masterful combination of pointed and polite.

"Aye," Dwalin agrees. "Point is simply that we should be here for Thorin, should things've gone sour."

"Perhaps Bilbo has a perfectly good reason for making our dear Thorin worry," Dori says hopefully.

"I wouldn't be so sure," Gloin says. He isn't overly trusting, especially of those who aren't his kin. Bilbo is close, but still fairly new to him.

Oin rolls his eyes and adjusts one of his hearing aids. "Why don't you tell them?" He nudges his brother.

"Oh?" Bofur says with a wry grin. "You got somethin' to tell?"

Gloin puffs up a bit, strokes his beard. "Can't say for sure yet, but I think my Gimli is seein' someone. He's been combin' his beard and muttering to himself." Gloin smiles, a wistful glint in his eyes.

"So?" Dwalin asks, resting his elbow on the table.

"He's going out tomorrow," Gloin says.

"Ahhhhh," the rest of the dwarves chorus, except for Bifur, of course.

Bofur laughs, then looks to Bombur. "You've eaten it all already?"

"Better hope things've gone well with Bilbo then," Dwalin says with a wink towards Ori.

"Oh, stop it, you two," Balin complains, but he doesn't mean it.

~

Dinner with his father had not gone as unpleasantly as he had assumed. Legolas had even managed to gather a few items from Thranduil's wardrobe and stuff them into his bag without being noticed. His father had also _offered_ him clothing, which Legolas took with much more hesitation.

It is one thing to wear his father's clothes without his permission and quite another to be given clothes his father approves of. It puts his resolve to dress differently into question. To think that he is pleasing his father this way, it makes him cringe.

He feels the soft fabric of the robe his father had given him, however, and thinks that he might at least wear it around the apartment. It actually seems like it could be fairly comfortable.

Legolas is still thinking on this when he pries his keys out from beneath his new things, far more adept at searching through his belongings than one should be.

He slips the key in and turns, the door opening upon a scene he should not be witnessing. "Ai!"

"Perhaps you should've knocked," Thorin says, and it almost sounds angry until he's chuckling.

Legolas covers his eyes as the two untangle themselves.

"Alright," Bilbo says loudly, and clears his throat.

Legolas finds the two hastily dressed, Bilbo's clutched hand keeping his trousers up, but he's happy for them, despite the mutual embarrassment of the situation.

"Did you need to--"

"We were-- we were finished," Bilbo tells him, although his mind is already envisioning a multitude of things he could be doing to Thorin. He ignores it in favour of being a semi-decent roommate. He's a Baggins, he should be upstanding and moral. His father should never hear of this--he'd probably faint--but his mother, on the other hand...

"For now," Thorin murmurs and Bilbo seriously wonders if the dwarf has read his mind.

Legolas lets out a little laugh and says, genuinely, "It's good to see you Thorin."

Thorin straightens his back and nods to the elf. "And you, Legolas."

Bilbo glances between them. "Right. Well, I'm just going to...clean up a bit." He ducks into the bathroom before either can get out a word.

Thorin scrubs a hand over the back of his neck, under his long hair.

"He does not mean to shut you out," Legolas says quietly and Thorin looks at him sharply, wondering how much he knows. The elf's gaze does not meet his, however. "Hobbits do not share our ways."

This only baffles Thorin further. "Our ways?" he asks, attempting to consider what dwarves and elves share. Really, his breathing is still uneven and his mind wrapped around what has just happened and the uncomfortable stickiness that has accompanied it, making it difficult to concentrate on much else.

Legolas nods, as if Thorin has understood him perfectly. "Finding your One is a frightening concept to hobbits."

Thorin feels as if the floor has dropped out from under him. Is this the reason for Bilbo's odd behaviour? Has he come on too strong or does Bilbo not return these feelings? _Can_ he not? "What has he told you?"

Legolas does not answer him, but his eyes meet Thorin's and he places a finger over his lips.

Bilbo emerges a second later, smiling, and Thorin swallows down all of his questions at the sight of his hobbit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to put in an actual dish (for Legolas), but my hesitation got the best of me--might be edited in later. Comments are appreciated, as always. :)


End file.
